The Core of Her Chaos..

She is emotionally devoid.

Her core—an expanse of empty space.

On the surface, she’s the life of the party.

If her followers read this, they’d burn me at the stake.

She only shows them what they want to see—

The Greatest Showman. I’ll give her that.

Stoicism’s sweetheart.

But when you get close,

when you hover in her core long enough,

you hear the deadness.

You see fractured emotions floating—

never connecting,

never speaking,

just circling.

As if a nuclear bomb once went off,

and every feeling fled or mutated.

Now, she carries the fallout inside.

It takes the right ear

to hear the childhood screams echoing in there.

It takes patience

to explore without her knowing she’s being studied.

And you better wear a radiation suit—

because if not, you’ll burn too.

You’ll become a burnt offering.

It’s dark in there.

Your torchlight flickers over lost emotions.

They float past—muffled,

afraid to light up,

too timid to fully form.

And when you dare touch one,

it squeaks like a wounded puppy.

It doesn’t want to leave you.

It wants you to take it home.

To heal it.

But no one can tell you what happened here.

You follow the screams,

wondering if you should’ve come with a lifeline.

Wondering if you’ll ever get out.

You’re already unraveling.

Even your own emotions start to jump ship.

The radiation is that strong.

Still, you push forward,

searching—

for what, you don’t even know.

But it feels like you would know it

if you saw it.

I used to think she was suppressing her feelings.

But that’s not it.

They’re disfigured—

anger sewn into anxiety,

despair fused with joy.

They’re stitched together like Frankenstein monsters.

And yet somehow,

somehow she makes them work.

She uses them to function,

to keep followers close,

to keep the charade alive.

They gravitate toward her,

because they see themselves in her brokenness.

But I see the destruction.

I dodge the monsters that rush past.

What happened here?

Who can tell me?

How can she love,

with a whole world like this inside her?

She tries to play love with me—

but I can tell it’s just that: a performance.

She tries to manipulate—

but I know she’s fighting herself more than me.

She acts like she doesn’t care—

but I can feel her caring too much.

She wants this.

She wants us.

But she doesn’t know how to let love into this chaos.

This world that runs her.

Should I go back?

Am I already too far gone?

Am I becoming like her?

A drifting, disjointed mass of emotion

floating in her world?

Still—

I want to save her.

To set this right.

To put her broken emotions back together.

To find what’s powering the darkness.

To cut the current, stop the swirling chaos.

To quiet the storm.

But I’ll be honest—

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Or where I’m going.

If I don’t escape,

or find the source,

or end it somehow...

I’ll be lost here forever.